Lucky
by Aksannyi
Summary: Another "Revenge" tag. This is the drive home afterwards and the thoughts and conversations accompanying that drive. Maybe a teeny bit of angst, definitely a little fluff, and of course, it very obviously ships Tiva.


**Well hello there. It's the artist formerly known as Dancing Mystical Kat here. I finally changed my user name to reflect the online moniker I've had everywhere else for at least the past seven years. I hope this makes things less confusing for all who see me in other forums. **

**Summary: This is the drive home after "Revenge." Because even though Ziva said so, it isn't over. A lot of introspective stuff. A little fluff. But mostly a lot of conversation with long pauses and introspection because sometimes I just love so deeply what's in their minds.  
**

**Spoilers: Pretty much Season 10 starting at "Shabbat Shalom." And obviously "Revenge."  
**

**Disclaimer: Definitely not mine.**

**-(-)-**

**Lucky**

"How's your arm?" was the first thing he said when they got into the car together, not _"How do you feel," _or _"Are you okay?" _He decided on a safe topic that wouldn't cause her to close right up and go back to not telling him things.

She drew in a heavy breath, and let it out slowly, turning to look at him as she said simply, "It hurts." And that, he supposed, was the answer to any of his questions anyway, that it just hurts, and he knew that she probably could see right through him anyway and know that there was more than one (more than a dozen, actually) meanings to his question. Nothing they ever said or did was simple.

She spoke again. "Thank you for driving me home."

He smiled slightly, knowing that this was her only way of saying she appreciated the fact that she wouldn't need to strain herself driving after the night she'd had. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, she was in a lot of pain. Though she still didn't want to admit it, even to Tony.

"Well, it isn't like I had any better way to get around, now did I?"

"Have you spoken to the insurance company?" she asked, and he looked at her for a moment, surprised that with everything going on, she'd even been able to remember that he was having an issue with his insurance.

"Yeah. They're still going to drop me. But since I don't have a car, I suppose I don't need the insurance, do I?"

"And here you are, driving my car," she murmured, amused. But she didn't so much as hint that she wanted to drive. It was something she wouldn't admit, that while she enjoyed driving, sometimes, it was nice to be the passenger and just relax into easy conversation. Especially when Tony was driving.

She looked at him. Despite the recent car crash, he was completely relaxed. He just had an air of confident comfort about him, and in that very moment, sitting beside him, she realized that he was _everything. _Everything she ever needed, and then some.

"Thank you," she said quietly, so quietly that he almost didn't hear her.

But he had. And as he stopped at a red light and turned to look at her, he couldn't help but be awestruck at the simplicity of it all. Of just being with her, in a car like this, quietly comfortable and together. And instead of asking _what for, _or _why, _he simply said, "You're welcome," as if he'd just done something simple for her that would warrant the gratitude.

And she supposed it _was _simple. He was just _there. _Always. Without question, without thought, without regard to what may be in it for him. He was just there for her. And she knew he'd been trying to tell her that before, when her father died, and she hadn't listened, not _truly, _because she couldn't, _wouldn't _believe it.

And Tony, knowing her _so well, _he knew exactly when she'd reached the conclusion that he was here, that she was truly not alone. How amazing was it, she realized, that he was so in tune with her. It was almost irritating how easily he read her. And yet, she couldn't possibly have it another way.

She realized she'd been staring, awestruck, for what was possibly several minutes. She'd been caught. She smiled at him, perhaps a little sheepishly, and he smiled back.

"I knew you would realize it eventually," was all he said, and again, she marveled at just how well he could read her. Her smile grew, and she felt the urge to touch him, to connect with him, so she reached out her hand, taking his hand in hers. This time, he was the one who chose to interlock them, and she curled her small fingers around his larger ones, settling their hands between them.

"I like this," she said, and he didn't need to ask what she meant. The hands, the closeness, the _them_-ness. He came to a stop at another red light, and took that opportunity to bring their interlocked hands up to his mouth and place a light kiss on her knuckles, ignoring the bruises for the time being in favor of this much-needed intimacy. She was spellbound by him, leaning back in her seat and looking at him intently as he rested their hands back down on the center console.

"Me too," was the only response he really had. And he could have spoken up about any number of subjects. Any movie, perhaps, or the comfort of the Mini for even his large frame, or even the way it made his insides turn to goo whenever she looked at him the way she was looking at him _right now, _but none of it came. None of it had to be said. Tony had never been one comfortable with silence. He was always the first to speak, to bring up something inane, and for once, he had nothing in his mind that could complement this moment but the smile on his face.

They rode in comfortable silence for quite some time, hand in hand, the occasional thumb caress and glance thrown. Ziva couldn't remember a time when she'd been more content to just _be _and not _do. _

Finally, she spoke, giving his hand a squeeze as she did so. "I thought it would feel better," she said, and Tony knew she wasn't talking about her arm.

"I thought I would just kill him and move on, and everything would be fine. I could ... move on from my father's death," she paused, drawing in a breath. Tony squeezed her hand reassuringly, urging her to continue. "But I feel like I just spent an evening trying on old clothes that do not fit."

"But you don't want to give them up because of the memories you have, the attachments."

"Yes," she said, mouth slightly ajar, somewhat surprised at his answer and just how well he'd understood her metaphor.

"Letting go of the past is never easy, Ziva," he said quietly. "Hell, look at me, over thirty years after my mother's death and I'm still hooked on film."

"That is different," she said, but she smiled nonetheless, as his intent was to invoke a smile.

"Yeah," he agreed. He paused, as if he were a chess player contemplating his next move. And it fit, he thought, equating Ziva with a game of chess. So much strategy in dealing with this woman, of planning how your next move will affect the next and so forth. But in the end, there was little else to do but just go forward, so he asked, "Are you okay?"

She started to answer, but he cut her off, saying, "And don't you _dare _say, 'I am fine, Tony.' I know better." She took that moment to scratch his hand with her thumbnail, and he grimaced in response.

"I will be," was the response, and that was all she really needed to say. That was also the closest he would get to an admission from Ziva that she was not fine, and he'd take what he could get.

"I know you will," he stated, and all she could do was smile back at him, because she knew that he'd do everything in his power to make it so, even if he lost everything else in the process.

But everything else was nothing, she knew, without him, and she suspected it was the same way for him. The car that he'd so ceremoniously bitched about over the past few days was nothing, because in the end, they were both still standing on this planet and that was everything.

"We are lucky," she said, squeezing his hand again, and he didn't need to ask why. She smiled at him again, her eyes lighting up.

He turned his head toward her to smile back, meeting her eyes as he said intently, "Very," in response.

**-(-)-**

**Feedback is always appreciated, if you have time. There was no clear picture of where this was going when I started but I like where it went. **

**Thanks for reading.  
**


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